Her Favorite Word is Despair
by viicious
Summary: Under the ever-popular 'What If...' condition, Cloud's weak-willed personality allows himself to lose too much at the advantage of all of those he fights.
1. Because I Love You

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Disclaimer:  
Just like everything else I believe in, FF7 has been written for so many times on FanFiction[dot]net, there really shouldn't be a need for adding a disclaimer. FanFiction[dot]net should just have its most popular (or all) its topics with its own disclaimer. Wouldn't that be great. Anyone who's reading this knows about FF7 and its creator. _Please._  
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Author note:  
Simply because I'm interested in writing what I actually intended first, the beginning to the story will be written later. This chapter starts out after the Temple of the Ancients has been compressed into the Black Materia (with Cait Sith #1 crushed inside, and Cait Sith #2 hopping around outside).  
  
Spank yoo.  
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Chapter [xx] **Because I Love You**  
  
In the misty clouds of the haven one only born there grows so ill, and fond upon leaving, lay the quiet angel again, dipping in and out of sleepy boredom that pulled at the tendrils of desire in his ensanguined hands. The blade of ill-begotten hatred and contrasted holiness alie his side, telling tales that were undeserving of its name and whispering the dying and hidden truths of the world. The child's brows so sadly curved in an uninterest below; the world like a tiny star, dying, bursting, becoming the white dwarf of the empty and vast and lonely void. Though even through the boredom felt he no desire to participate in anything whatsoever. He had gotten through the agonising lack of activity, and passed into the ill-desire to do the things that would arise his spirits.  
  
Another being existed within the hell of heaven who was not so angellic, and her body pressed against the cartilage that extended from within and wrapped around the non-existent building's base. Long tentacles drooped from her head, her body like one mass of colour, her arms molded in the grey, fleshy cartilage. Her long silvery hair hung as though wet, and her eyes were the child of malice. Dry, yellow orbs floated in them, tantalising and hypnotic. She summoned her son.  
  
"Sephiroth," she called, with a cooling voice which calmed his nerves so rightly, yet not quite fully. She was not so right to be called an angel, but to Sephiroth, she was the light of love. He came near, his step as calm as spring water, appearing as though he were gliding along the cold ground. He took her in with his glowing eyes of shame, and smiled politely as he should.  
  
"Yes, Mother," he replied, softly. He was belittled under her presence.  
  
"They have completed the puzzles," she spoke, her mouth not moving at all, "The Black Materia has materialised from the Cetra shrine." She raised a hand out of the gloop which posessed it, and motherly ran it over Sephiroth's hair at the side of his head. "Please," she nearly pleaded, "Please fetch it for me."  
  
Sephiroth, as one could imagine, did not desire to do it. He had become so listless that the energy finally drained from him and he had not the care nor desire to run off to those who hate him and fetch a toy for his mother. He said nothing, but graciously accepted her loving caress. He closed his eyes, floating in a faux bliss his mind's eye created, and a thin tentacle slowly began to wrap around his throat. Like inhumanly long, thin fingers, she constricted the cruel limbs around his slender throat, and with a harsh, vice grip did she rip him of his blind harmony and stare straight into his soulless eyes as his throat was made to be crushed.  
  
But he did not move. He could not move. His every muscle was stiff with oxygenless dread. Her cold eyes contracted and Sephiroth could not breathe. But dare he aim to resist, she would surely punish him.  
  
"You will do as I say," she spoke, under her breath, "because I am your mother... and I love you." She dropped Sephiroth promptly, and he crumpled into a miserable pile of seething, blind thoughts and coughing pain. He grabbed his throat in a movement of dulled panic, and tried his hardest to breathe, as he was humbled to a pitiful mass on the ground. He meekly crawled towards his silvery death blade, and slipped out of her sight to complete her task.  
  
Her eyes were shut. 


	2. Return to Anagen

Disclaimer:  
Please see chapter 1.

Author note:  
There are no descriptions for the party in this chapter, because they will go in the first few chapters when I actually write them. For now, I'm sure you all know who they are, give I their names.  
  
Oh, and none of this is meant as a pairing fiction, even though it may sound like it.

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Chapter [xx] **Return to Anagen**  
  
Far from the hell of heaven lay the quiet forest where the unfettered descend the stairs to the pit of the earth and recover the wicked rock of death. A tall temple once stood, a shrine to the ancient race, Cetra. It was only a surmise in the clouded desire of a several nine people. Their comradery was the only corona in the darkened shadow of the present. And together, they were coming closer to the goal. With this, the loss of the Temple of the Ancients.  
  
A deep well existed then where the large building once stood, and far within the pit lie a very disturbing glassy rock, which contained thousands of generations of priceless knowledge. It was dense in content and black in colour. It was called Black Materia, a Materia so fierce it could destroy anything it wanted to, should it be summoned so.  
  
Cloud slowly slid along the rocky wall, a shallow anticipation filling his mind. For simply an instant, he imagined what may happened when his labored fingers touch the cold surface. For simply an instant, he asked the childish voice with in his consciousness if he would feel a jolt of energy, or learn a thing or two, or feel the terribly energy which may emit from it on contact. For simply an instant, he wondered what it might feel like if he called forth the terror that the Black Materia could bring.  
  
When he finally grasped the floating mass, he was disappointed.  
  
"Cloud!" someone called, and unmistakably, he knew it was Aeris. Her voice was like a thousand holy bells on a black, rainy day. The thin ribbon of the voice echoed shallowly in the tremendous gap of earth, and he was prompted to call back.  
  
"I've got it, Aeris!" he called back, the echo surprising him. How odd the echoes seemed. Her echo seemed like it was not even there, but rather, behind the walls of the pit. And his, the same. He turned, with the Black Materia in hand, to go back out, but Aeris was already halfway down the dirt wall.  
  
It was equally refreshing as it was satisfying to see her happy face again which shined out like a beacon amidst the grave events they faced daily, which seemed to regularly darken their moods and bring them to a sullen growth of distress. If only they could smile every time they saw hers, they would probably feel more willing to fight for their desires and rid the Planet of all of that which they hated. Cloud held it out to her, and she stopped short, as if she could feel the penetrating malice.  
  
"We have it," he said, with a shallow smile, "Sephiroth can't do any harm now." Her smile, then, was so real and so warming. Cloud felt he didn't deserve any of it, and promptly turned away. What right had he to accept her kind offerings? She giggled.  
  
"Are you blushing?" she asked, quietly.  
  
Embarrassed, he scratched the back of his head and shrugged. She laughed then. And it would seem right and fair with all the world if they and all their friends would stay, here, in this kindly bestowed happiness, forever. It was these tiny moments where it truly felt good to breathe the air they breathed, and see the sun they saw, and felt the warmth they felt. They were liable to believe in 'too good to be true', and 'happiness lasts not forever', and these tiny moments made them forget those pessimistic doctrines.  
  
But does happiness truly deserve to last?  
  
They felt _him_.  
  
They felt his corrupt presence oppress their bliss, and a heavy, hot, black wave of heat settled upon them in a most sickening tendency. They dared not to look up, but to keep the eyes off an enemy is death-by-name. They slowly raised their heads.  
  
And there he was, hovering in the air above them, with a sneer of hated ill will and pride spread across his face. And he spoke with acerbity, his strong, sharp voice reigning over their ears.  
  
"Give it to me."

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Another author's note:  
Sorry for the extreme retardedness with the lack of indentations. For some reason, FanFiction[dot]net no longer allows them, nor a few _other_ things....


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